I remember it as if it were a chapter from a bygone novel. My husband, James, presented me with a birthday gift that felt fit for a queen, and in the middle of the celebration his heavily pregnant girlfriend called me on my mobile.
Eleanor had never been happier; she had found a man, James, with whom she could imagine building a future. Every date with him seemed enchanted, bright and carefree. He showered her with bouquets and little parcels, and every friend envied her good fortuneonly Margaret persisted in reminding her:
He’s only with you because you have the money he needs.
Eleanor paid no heed to Margarets words and kept reveling in her happiness.
Six months after they met, she decided to introduce James to her parents. At first, William and Elizabeth were far from delighted; William had always hoped she would marry the son of his business partner. Yet, after some reflection, they honoured her choice, and everything went smoothly.
Within a year they were husband and wife. Over a hundred guests filled the church on their wedding day, and Eleanors parents gave them a flat in the heart of London as a wedding present. From the twentiethfloor balcony they could watch the city spread out beneath them, and it truly felt as if the world lay at their feet.
William soon secured James a senior post in his own firm, and not long after James was promoted to deputy chairman, handling the companys most critical affairs. Gradually, William grew to like James, impressed by how adeptly he tackled every task. William would later say that he now rested easy about the firms future, knowing a worthy successor stood beside him. In the early days, Eleanor and James lived for themselves, escaping on holidays abroad, visiting three or four countries each year. But soon her parents began urging them to think about children, and the idea of an heir entered their conversations.
Months slipped by while they tried to conceive, each test stubbornly showing only a single line. Anxiety grew, and they both underwent thorough examinations. The results revealed that Eleanor faced a hidden problem. She began treatment, spending countless days in costly private clinics and consulting specialists, yet nothing changed. She endured several cycles of IVF, each one ending in disappointment. By the time she turned thirty, the only thing she could do was dream of a child.
When her birthday arrived, they decided to celebrate it as a family affair. Jamess mother and sister flew in, and Eleanors parents and a couple of other relatives gathered as well. Halfway through the banquet, Eleanors phone rang unexpectedly. The hall was noisy, so she stepped outside. An unknown number flashed on the screen; she assumed a friend was calling, but a voice she did not recognise filled the receiver.
The woman introduced herself and then said, Eleanor, I know you well, so please hear me and stay calm. James and I have been together for a long time, we love each other, and soon well have a child. Hes happy, but he told me you cant have children, so I beg you to let him go. Only with me can he truly be happy.
Eleanor felt as if the floor had dropped out beneath her. She steadied herself, returned to the guests, and forced a smile, though the joy that had coloured her face was gone.
When the gathering thinned and only the parents remained, Eleanor recounted the call. James turned as pale as a sheet and could offer no explanation. Williams temper flared; he hauled James out onto the street. Later, when Eleanor returned to their block, a drunken James waited by the car park.
He tried to convince her that he had no idea how the situation arose, that the woman had simply bewitched him. He then claimed he had been searching for a surrogate to bear their child and that he had abandoned the woman. Trusting James, Eleanor let him back inside. The next morning she phoned William, telling him they had patched things up and all was well, though a knot of unease still lingered in her chest.
Now, years later, I sit and wonder whether I should let James walk away with that other woman, especially since a child is on the way. My love for him runs deep, and I know I would suffer either way. I am left with no clear answer, only the lingering echo of that fateful phone call and the weight of the choices it forced upon me.
